We filigree and we baste. But what do the dead care for the fringe of words, Safe in their suits of milk? What do they care for the honk and flash of… - Charles Wright

Out of any two thoughts I have, one is devoted to death.

Language is the element of definition, the defining and descriptive incantation. It puts the coin between our teeth. It whistles the boat up. It shows us the city of light across the water. Without language there is no poetry, without poetry there’s just talk. Talk is cheap and proves nothing. Poetry is dear and difficult to come by. But it poles us across the river and puts a music in our ears. It moves us to contemplation. And what we contemplate, what we sing our hymns to and offer our prayers to, is what will reincarnate us in the natural world, and what will be our one hope for salvation in the What’sToCome.

If you don’t shine you are darkness.

from “Tomorrow